Love Thy Motherland
by RedPoppyEnkai
Summary: All Jotnar are very in tune with their home planet. In fact, they can hear Jotunheim's voice in their mind and heart. It is a pure and wholesome bond, made of pure spiritual love and respect. After the attack on Jotunheim, Loki finally reconnects with his home planet, after a thousand years away from it. Which is extremely upsetting, because Jotunheim won't can it for five seconds.


**This didn't turn out as funny as I hoped, I'm too much of a stickler for detail, and I feel like I failed because of that. :( But I still had fun with it! And it turned out quite nice if I do say so myself. This chapter is the most serious. It gets funnier from here on out. Or I hope it will.**

 **Oh, and forgive or point out any grammar errors, I did my best with the editing, but I was too excited to get this up to go through it as thoroughly as I should have.**

~~~~ Strange Feelings ~~~~~

Jotunheim gave him a buzz. As soon as the Bifrost deposited him down on the frozen land, a hum had started up in the back of his head. It was like he had downed the perfect amount of mead and was ready to sit back and enjoy the obstreperous stupidity of the other members in his company. It was strangely relaxing in its intent, but wound him tighter than a snare drum due to the unknown origin of the feeling. It didn't feel like his own conjured thought, it was an outside influence. Like when someone tells you to think of dragons and you can't help but think of dragons.

It freaked Loki out. Did he inhale a spell? Did Heimdall finally have the Bifrost chew him up a little on the ride over? Loki focused on his breathe remaining even, he didn't want to tip the others off to his plight. They would only ridicule him for a weakness none of them were experiencing. And none of them were experiencing it. They all look steady with calm, excited eyes. None of them could hide themselves like Loki, so if they were experiencing this, it would show, at least to his keen eye.

It was only him then. Great.

It had to be a spell, it was the most logical conclusion, but a spell powerful enough to curse him despite his wards and own protection charms, sigils, and runes was a feat indeed. How this thing got into him was a mystery. Did it happen on Jotunheim? Or in the Bifrost? Did it catch him in Asgard and take a nap for a short while? It was something to panic over – not that Loki was completely calm – but, surprisingly, the curse didn't feel malicious. Strong yes, but not malevolent. Loki would know, he's had his fair share of malicious spells, both as the caster and the receiver, and this one didn't hold that inky, dark vibe, that mental heaviness, that curses do. That didn't calm him much, though.

Loki tried to push his worries and the feelings the curse brought away as they trekked through the snow towards that huge ice ridge not too far ahead, but his curiosity kept bring him back to it, poking at it, examining it. It grew stronger too. A buzz to a hum, a hum to a nag, a nag to a whisper. The whisper both intrigued and scared him. Voices in his head was not a good sign, but he couldn't make out what it was saying, and that just drove him nuts. If he was going to be crazy the least the universe could do is give him something coherent to listen to so he didn't have to be bored in his own personal nuthouse.

Loki rapped his cape around himself, not due to the cold but out of comfort. In fact, he wasn't that cold at all, he could feel the snow, and the sting of the harsh wind, but the cold was only a light feeling, like the temperature of a cool bath. That was strange, because even Thor was shivering. Not that his brother would admit that, trying to still every tremble that snaked up his body with sheer pride.

It was beautiful here. Loki would never admit it out loud, but he did find it so. Icy cliffs stretched out like fingers into a deep chasm, so deep its bottom obscured by mist. Pillars rose tall all around them and creaked in the wind. A precarious sound that raised hairs on the back of his neck, as if they were about to fall any second, right on top of them to smush them flat. Danger always held an appeal to Loki, not reckless fights like his brother liked, but power that intimidated. Anything intimidating, such as this massive, vast, divergent, harsh realm, was captivating in Loki's eyes.

Sudden pride filled him, the soft glow of happiness that one gets went being complimented, that feeling when you say a 'thank you' and mean it. Loki batted it away, unsure why he felt such in the first place.

They walked along one of those icy fingers, between pillars, and up to the ridge. It was a silent journey, but not too long, Heimdall had placed them close to their target. Once in the shadow of the mountain, the wind slowed down and the shivering of the others lightened.

The palace was open, walled, but not closed off by a roof. Sharp pillars of ice burst forth from the ground, the floor smooth ice. It reminded Loki of a cave, stalagmites and cracky walls and all, just made of ice and holding no ceiling. Why would a palace be this open? It didn't make much sense. It wasn't protected from ambushes nor the elements. Not to mention that there were no people. What royal palace had no bustling town to surround it? Things just weren't adding up.

 _It's not the real palace_ , he thought suddenly. It's a fake! A decoy, as to not let the Æsir into their real homes. This must be at the edge of the city, to trick off intruders, people too intent on battle to notice the ploy, people like his brother. Yes, this place was big and spacious enough to fight in, but closed enough to defend easily. It was a good idea and Loki applauded the architect that came up with and designed the pseudo throne room.

Wait a second... The nagging had grew, for just a second, and that was when he had gotten the idea of the palace not being real. That was... That was... Did this new _thing_ in his head help him think better? Offer him suggestions? No, that was impossible. Wasn't it?

Then they were there. A king, presumably Laufey, sat on a high throne made of, you guessed it, ice. He watched the six of them with weary red eyes.

Loki's never seen a Jotunn before, only in vague half-drawings in his books, and they didn't do the ice giants justice. Laufey wasn't pretty, but he was interesting, a type of appearance that gained attention. He was a deep cerulean with sharp features, indigo ridges ran in swirling lines down his chest and across his face, an odd contrast to the keen plains of his body. His red eyes were on Thor, escaping the notice of Loki's curious gaze. If Loki looked hard enough maybe he could commit the image to memory, to draw later for reference to what the mysterious Jotnar looked like. Laufey wasn't pretty by any means, but Loki always appreciated the aesthetics of a monster.

"You've come a long way to die, Asgardians." Laufey's voice was unsurprisingly deep and rough, the kind of voice expected from a giant of this cold realm. It matched the frozen ground. Loki paused, the feeling in the back of his mind babbled excitedly and Loki got a strange sensation. The kind of tingling he got when knowledge was just out of his reach, the answer to a question being dangled tantalizingly in front of his face.

Thor was talking, something about announcing who he was?

"We know who you are." Laufey spoke lowly, nearly a growl. Everything he said sounded like a near growl.

Thor got right to the point. "How did your people get into Asgard?"

There was a long break in the conversation. Thor shifted irritability, Laufey finally looked at him straight. "The house of Odin," he told Thor grimly, but Loki could detect the little spark of satisfaction at the words he spoke and the reaction they poked out of Thor, "is full of traitors."

"Do not dishonor my father's name with your lies!" Thor roared.

Irritation filled him. What a rude boy Thor was. He was talking to a king, he could at least show some diplomacy. Wait a second, why was he so irritated at Thor? This wasn't new behavior and usually Loki don't get this upset about his brother's stupidity. Yet still, the irritation continued like an itch, but the more he examined the feeling the more it felt veiled. Not entirely his. The spell in the back of his head! The curse. That had to be where the emotion was stemming from.

If that were true though... Then that meant that this thing in his head was sentient. Loki's breath caught, the fear of another being invading his body was terrifying. What happened? Was this actually a wright come to haunt him? A ghost trying to possess him? A projection looking for a host?

The curse – wright, ghost, whatever – emitted soothing waves of reassurance, promises of its benevolent nature. It calmed Loki, despite this show of influence over him being more than worrying.

"Your father is a murderer and a thief." That caught Loki's attention and his ire went from the curse to Laufey. His father was no such thing. "Why did you come here? To make peace? You long for battle, you crave it. You're nothing but a boy, trying to prove himself a man." Loki licked his lips as more Jotnar appeared, seeming to melt out of the ice and shadows, surrounding them.

"This boy has run tired of your mockery." Thor gripped Mjolnir and in return the Jotnar around them prepared themselves. Calling forth their innate abilities to form clubs of ice. Loki was momentarily distracted by the ice magic. A warm feeling of hospitality jumped him and Loki, baffled by it, used his rising worry to replace it.

"Thor," Loki spoke softly, leaning into his brother's space as to mimic a private conversation, one that everyone could hear, "stop and think. Look around you. We are outnumbered."

Thor blew him off like an irritant fly. "Know you're place, brother."

 _Rude boy! He deserves a good paddling._

What?

No.

Did he really just think of spanking his brother?

Of course not, that was the curse talking, Loki relaxed a little. That was a relief, because that thought was more than a little disturbing. It was hard to tell his thoughts and the curse apart, but it was getting easier as it got stronger. Loki both dreaded and looked forward to the growing strength. On one hand, it will be easier to differentiate his thoughts and its thoughts, because not being able to tell the difference was making him doubt himself severally, but, on the other hand, it also meant that his magic parasite was getting bigger.

Oh wait, Laufey was talking. He really should be paying attention, this was kind of important.

"-actions will unleash." Laufey paused again. Loki was starting to think that he was just doing it for dramatic effect. Do Jotnar have theatre? Laufey would be good, narrating a scene of battle as two skinny relatives play it out on the stage. "I do. Go now, while I still allow it."

Loki noded his head, slowly, kind of like a hidden bow, and addressed the king. "We will accept your most gracious offer." Thor looked angry and conflicted. He _was_ angry and conflicted. Every bone in him screamed to fight. Loki turned to go. "Come on, brother." He urged. Slowly Thor turned to follow.

"Run back home, little princess." Loki didn't know who said that, or why, but he wanted to throttle him. His eyes fluttered closed and he sighed a defeated, little 'damn.' _Another rude boy. His mother shouldn't have been so soft on him as a kid, lessons need to be enforced to not breed recklessness._

Huh? Again with the voice in his head. Wait. It knew about that Jotunn? Knew it well enough to tell about its family and personality? That doesn't make any sense. Wasn't this a Jotunn spell? Why was it telling him things about Jotunheim and its people? Why-

A metallic shrill sounded through the air and Laufey was struck back several feet and into the throne. That's right, he's brother had been insulted.

"Next?" Thor was grinning, finally having gotten the battle he wanted.


End file.
